


duty

by Echo (Lyrecho)



Series: ad astra per aspera ad infernos [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU Coda: Kingsglaive, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Gen, Multiple Pov, Two-Shot, fate!swap/role!swap, oracle!Prompto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:58:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9635846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyrecho/pseuds/Echo
Summary: He was vaguely aware of the glaive at his side – trying to catch his attention, calling his name and even reaching out to tentatively tug at one sleeve – but his mind was elsewhere, and he pulled away from her and melted into the crowd – he had no honest clue of what he was doing, really, but if General Glauca was here then he had been right, and there was far more to this treaty signing than Niflheim was letting on.The day of the treaty signing approaches, but so does that final darkness - and multiple factions clash in an attempt to gain the upper hand before all falls to destruction.Oracle, Glaive and King - each has their own desires, but more than that; they have their duty...and sometimes the two don't align.|Tumblr||Twitter|





	

**Author's Note:**

> 'sup. Now, I just want to take a moment to point out that it seems like I'm jumping all over the place with this au. That's kind of because I am.
> 
> I have my reasons! Up until this _exact_ point, pretty much nothing has diverged from canon and I have _vair specific_ scenes I want to put down. At some point I will probably come back and expand slightly on the skipped over points, but...well, we've all seen Kingsglaive, and the game. At this point, until we switch over to Noct and see the how the whole Luna thing went down, divergence doesn't really matter.
> 
> Sidenote: age differences are the same as they are in canon, so Noct & Prompto are the same age, Luna is four years older. At some point I'm going to write a cute story about how Luna was the graduating class member to show the little socially reticent prince the ropes in highschool. Not yet, but soon.
> 
> Also! Also also!! [@chocobaes ](chocobaes.tumblr.com/) actually read the first oneshot?!?!?! Senpai _noticed me_?!?!?!?!
> 
> *blushing*
> 
> just like the theme for the last instalment was 'brothers' (hence the title), 'duty' will play a huge part in this bit. keep an eye out for all mentions!

The fireworks were beautiful, but it had been a long time since something like that - sparkling, bright, fleeting and ultimately _meaningless_ \- had been able to truly catch his attention. As tense as he was now? Nothing was distracting him. And so long as he had to remain on alert to remain _unbothered_ , nothing would. General Glauca and Chancellor Izunia - he was terrified of running into either one of them here. He had no honest clue what the General was doing here (though he couldn't really be fighting when the war was meant to be _over_ , he supposed; Niflheim had to keep up _some_ semblance of integrity) but Prompto was _certain_ that he had seen him lurking about earlier - and Ravus had warned him quietly, before they'd left Tenebrae, before he'd vanished into the crowd of soldiers and dignitaries and proceeded to _completely ignore him_ , that Izunia had his eyes on Prompto.

Not good news, really, but not exactly _surprising_ either. Gen didn't seem to think so, either, and she was _definitely_ not amused, not with how she'd been hovering since they'd arrived in Insomnia - he hadn't _seen_ her, but he'd known her and been around her long enough now to know when the chill in the air was natural, and when it had a slight divine touch to it.

The crowd he stood amongst gathered on the open, sloping balcony of the top floor of the tower the celebration was being held on for the Lucian House of Peers and Niflheim's Council; stairs and ramps winding their way like glass and silver spires directly up to the equally open and crowded roof in elegant curves similar to the marble and gilt architecture of Tenebrae's oldest and most sacred buildings - a familiarity that made Prompto homesick, despite himself.

And for such a large, important party, the crowd sure was quiet - though, considering the bulk of it was made up of older nobles, raised and conditioned to protect their image at all times, the less rowdy nature of the gathering made sense. As it was, thought, and as was inevitable for such a large number of people - there _was_ noise, which made the echoing lack of it all that much more obvious when a lull moved over the crowd.

Prompto's eyes tracked silence and movement, still tense and waiting to be attacked - by Izunia, by Glauca, it didn't matter; in the end, _what was the difference_ \- and there was King Regis, walking side by side with Emperor Aldercapt, who was smiling and gesticulating affably, even as the Lucian King's face remained as cold and distant as Gen on one of her worst days.

The urge to go up and _speak_ to the man his mother had always referred to as her closest friend rose up with a ferocity Prompto hadn't realised he'd held - he'd always _wanted_ to talk to Regis, sure, particularly about the events of _that day_ , to make sure he didn't blame himself the same way Ravus blamed him, but it wasn't really like he'd _known_ Regis as anything more than Noct's dad. He'd been, like, _nine_ , when they'd come to Tenebrae.

Either way, he wasn’t stupid enough to go and intrude on whatever conversation the two were having – it was none of his business and the last thing he wanted to do was draw the Emperor’s ire. Ravus would kill him.

He looked over the crowd, searching for something to distract him – and that was when his eyes fell upon a familiar face, standing stiff and formal against a wall – or, well, a window; one of the Kingsglaive, the woman that had escorted him through the citadel upon his arrival to Insomnia.

A faint smile played about the corners of his mouth – her kicking his original driver out of his car may have just been one of the most amusing things he’d seen in a while.

Mind made up, he began to head over to her – and his smile only grew when he saw how she met his eyes and then stoically looked away when she saw him heading her way.

“Hey,” he said as he stopped beside her, and she sent him a wary sidelong glance.

“Your Highness,” she greeted, voice cautious, probing – and Prompto put genuine _effort_ into not letting his face fall, or show his displeasure – there was no way the glaive could know of his complicated relationship with _that_ particular title, and in the end – it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t deserve the stress his complex would impress upon her.

“The fireworks are nice, aren’t they?” He offered her a small smile, and while she was still staring at him like he was a loaded gun aimed straight at her face – slowly, she nodded in agreement.

“Actually, Your Highness,” she said. “I was wanting to speak to you, if that’s okay?”

Prompto felt curiosity rise up within him, and he quirked a brow at the glaive. “Well, I was the one that came over here,” he pointed out, amused. “So, sure. What is it?”

A hesitance showed in her eyes – but then she shook her head, and reached into one of the pockets she had on the side of her jacket. “Here,” she said, and held out a golden pin. Curiosity not sated at all – and confusion just growing – Prompto took it from her.

“Um, thank you?” He said, and she let out a slightly bitter laugh.

“It’s not from me,” she said, and shook her head. “My friend, Libertus – when the King made the decision to go through with the treaty, he asked for one of the glaive’s to go to Tenebrae and escort you here.”

Fingering the already warm gold of the pin, Prompto knew better than to ask after this Libertus – or question why he’d never seen nor heard any sign of him near Tenebrae. He knew grief when he saw it. “It’s beautiful,” he said. “Thank you.” He looked up from the pin at her – it was warm in his hands, and he could only take that to mean that she had been keeping it on her person since she’d gotten it. “Are you sure you want to give this to me?”

She blinked at him. “It’s yours,” she said. “He got it for you…so I want you to have it.”

He closed his fingers around it, holding it tight. “Thank you, really,” he said again. “I’ll keep it with me always.”

She offered him a small smile. “I’m sure that would make him happy,” she said.

“That’s good,” he said, and then blinked. “Wait, I never caught your –” His words froze in his throat as the dim lighting in the balcony played off of a terribly, horrifyingly familiar set of armor that he just _couldn’t_ convince himself he’d imagined as it disappeared into the crowd, and the noise around him dialed down to a low murmur – the beating of his own heart pretty much all he could hear as it thundered in his head. He paled.

He was vaguely aware of the glaive at his side – trying to catch his attention, calling his name and even reaching out to tentatively tug at one sleeve – but his mind was elsewhere, and he pulled away from her and melted into the crowd – he had no honest clue of what he was doing, really, but if General Glauca _was_ here then he had been right, and there was far more to this treaty signing than Niflheim was letting on.

-x-

Crowe blinked as the oracle walked away from her – normally she wouldn’t care overmuch, because who was she to judge the whims of royalty, but something about his face as he’d stalked off…

Scared. He’d looked scared, and not for no reason – as if he’d seen something in the crowd and it had spooked him. Like a chocobo encountering a snake.

Her lips quirked into a smile involuntarily at the thought – the comparison formed an amusing picture in her mind – but it soon faded away, as all her smiles did recently, ever since…since Libertus had been brought home.

The sudden desire to talk to Nyx rose up within her – next to her he’d been the closest to Libertus, closer in fact, and he’d been grieving so much that Commander Drautos had _actually_ put him on mandatory leave – but she was on duty, and slightly disillusioned with the King and his council or not, she was _loyal_ to Lucis, and if ever there came a time when the royal line really _did_ have to be ended, it would _not_ come at the hands of Nif filth – of that, she was certain. And so, even though her phone was right in her pocket, where the pin Libertus had carried on him for the oracle had been kept, with Nyx’s number right at the top of her contacts, instead of giving into that urge to call up her surrogate brother she tracked the path the oracle had taken with shrewd eyes, and signaled Pelna that he would have to take over her spot on the perimeter guard – she was taking a more intimate stand on security, and was going to head into the thick of the crowd.

He waved her off agreeably, and she carefully slipped her way through dancing and laughing guests who were too above her station to bother to dodge around her – after all, that was _her_ job; there were more reasons than just one why Crowe had never been fond of the House of Peers.

 _Where was the oracle?_ Her gaze flickered from corner to corner, wall to wall – but no one among the crowd, not even the visiting dignitaries of Niflheim, was wearing the same stark shades of _ice_ Tenebrae’s prince had been – bleach white with layers of soft and navy blue all brought together in silk and silver brocade.

Slotted in, her earpiece crackled to life – and Crowe paused, raising one hand to press against the button that would activate the speaker on your end.

“Yeah?” She asked, only half paying attention as she continued to search through the crowd, standing up on her toes at some points to see over the heads of those taller than her in the swarming crowd; _damn_ her short height.

“Altius.” Her back stiffened, and she automatically snapped straight to attention at the sound of her captain’s voice over the comms.

“Sir?” She asked, both warily and searching, more than a little confused as to why he would be contacting her _here_ , let alone _now_.

“I’m here with Khara,” he said, speaking clearly and concisely even if the more he spoke, the less his words _made sense_ to Crowe. “He says he saw you speaking with the oracle?”

She paused. “Ah – yes, sir. He did. Speak with me, I mean.”

Drautos hummed. “And where is he now?”

“I – I wouldn’t know, sir.”

“You’re not the only one,” he stated grimly. “He walked out of view of both security and the cameras a while ago, and he hasn’t been seen since. The King doesn’t want to alert Niflheim yet, but we’re suspecting foul play.”

Crowe remembered the pale, scared look on the oracle’s face, and felt cold. “A bargaining chip,” she said quietly. “He’s the oracle. He’s worth…everything.” She swallowed.

“Keep an eye out,” Drautos commanded. “And keep this on the down low, we don’t want this getting out. The Kingsglaive will be assigned to hunting down our wayward prince – since with the treaty signing going down tomorrow there will be no reason to be out fighting on the wall, we’ve got nothing better to do anyway.”

His words sounded glib, but Crowe could hear through them, to the second meaning – since nothing would be expected of the Glaive at the proceedings the next day, Niflheim wouldn’t be suspicious if none of them were spotted around the citadel.

“Do we have any clue who could have taken him?” She asked, and Drautos grunted.

“No,” he said. “Which just makes this harder. You’re on the clock now, Altius – get moving. The Crownsguard will take over here.”

She watched – and saw – people dressed in black clothes both far simpler and of higher quality then her own slip into the room and station themselves at walls, windows and exits, and knew that it would be fine for her to leave now, if she did so discreetly. She slipped out past a woman of the Crownsguard that was vaguely familiar to her with a smile that was returned, and then she was jogging down a set of concrete stairs that wound down the building in harsh and terrible light, leading to both the service areas and the fire escape.

“I’ll take downtown,” she tapped back into the comms channel just in time to hear the chatter of Sonitus and Tredd arguing over who would take the northern area of the citadel, where the Nifs had been placed for the duration of the treaty signing.

She sighed, and opened her mouth to repeat – considering the lack of other glaives on the line, she could only presume that they’d switched out of the active channel once the two had started up.

“We read you, Crowe.” It was Luche’s voice that crackled in then, and she sighed once more – in relief this time, rather than exasperation. Slightly annoying more often than not he may be, Luche Lazarus _knew_ how to get the rowdier members of the glaive under control. “Sonitus, Tredd – if the oracle really was taken into the citadel he’ll be well guarded. Two is better than one; work as a team. Watch each other’s backs. Crowe, I’ll take downtown with you – you start working your way down from that building and I’ll work my way up from the slums; if you find the oracle two sharp bursts of static over the line, if you manage to _obtain_ the oracle, three and your location, if you run into trouble one continuous line of static. Everyone, keep your comms open even if you aren’t talking, and for the love of the Six, _don’t pollute the line._ ”

“He’s talking to you, Tredd,” Pelna laughed out as Tredd spluttered, indignant, and Crowe wondered just how many people had been listening in to the two idiots fighting without speaking up.

“Should we get Nyx in on this?” She asked quietly, interrupting Pelna and Tredd before their friendly exchanging of insults could become something a lot worse – or before Luche could snap at them all and proceed to act even more holier-than-thou for the rest of the night.

“…No,” Luche finally said. “If we end up needing back up, we will, but for now…Commander Drautos put him on leave for a good reason.”

She nodded, even though she knew they wouldn’t see her, and then quickly pulled her comm from her ear. She’d put it straight back in – but right then, she just needed a moment.

She slumped back against the rough concrete wall of the stairwell – pressed her face into her hands and after resisting the urge to _scream_ – or maybe cry, she couldn’t really tell – dragged her hands down over her face and sighed – almost sobbed, really.

This week was one of the worst she’d ever experienced in her life – starting with the news of Lucis’ surrender all the way up to this point, facing the idea that everything may have been for absolutely nothing – Lucis’ surrender, Libertus’ death…to Niflheim, neither of those things meant anything, not like they did to Crowe. The Nif’s didn’t care for anything but themselves – their own wants and desires – and they would tear down anything that got in their way.

She _hated_ them.

But at that moment, there was nothing she could do about that hate – and so she slipped her comm back into her ear, and began jogging once more down the stairs.

The line was silent, but just knowing that the others were there if she needed them was reassuring. She’d have to hurry – Luche was probably already working his way through the city, and as much as she was _not_ looking forward to having him as a partner, she wasn’t just going to let him go _alone_ – not when there was even the slightest chance of Nifs being in the area.

She’d already lost Libertus, and with Nyx refusing to leave his bed, it kind of felt like she’d lost him, too – in no way was Luche as close to her as Nyx and Libertus, but they were both glaives, and she was _sick_ of losing people.

Unconsciously, her hand slipped into the pocket she’d kept Libertus’ pin in since the coroners had given it to her – and though there was nothing in the pocket except for her phone, she could feel the imprint of where the pin had been pressed up against the fabric. In the end, it was pure chance that Libertus had been the one chosen to escort the oracle – he’d been judged as unassuming enough, given his kind demeanor and sprained ankle, that the Nifs placed in Tenebrae would overlook him snooping around the palace. If it had been her, been Nyx that had been injured in their last battle – either one of them could have taken his place, because in the end they were, all of them, entirely replaceable.

All she could do, now, was honour his sacrifice – her people’s sacrifice, and seek to salvage whatever she could of this peace treaty before sticking it to the Nifs.

“Crowe?” Luche’s voice, coming from over the comms. “You spotted anything yet?”

“Uh – no,” she said. “Not yet.”

“Okay. Keep in contact.”

“Will do.”

She shook her head, and pushed off from the wall.

There would be time for grief and anger later. For now, she had a job to do – as was her duty.

-x-

“Gen,” Prompto panted out. “ _Gentiana_ , slow down.”

“You speed up,” his patron countered, from where she stalked ahead of him at a speed that was definitely inhuman considering not only how smoothly, how casually she was moving, but just what she was wearing – a heavy robe that dragged across the floor and heels that could be classified as a lethal weapon in and of themselves.

“Where are we _even going_?” He complained. “You _abducted_ me.”

At the tone of accusation in his voice she turned her head to send him a look over her shoulder. “You’re being dramatic,” she said.

“And you’re breaking the law.” He looked about himself nervously, taking in the portraits hanging on the palace walls with unease. “What are we doing here, anyway?”

“The laws of this land mean nothing to me,” Gen said serenely, and he could hear the smile in her voice as she turned back away from him. “And besides – you have just as much right as any of the line of Lucis to be here.” She paused, and reached out a hand to press against a set of double steel doors. “Here, Prompto – give me your hand.”

Automatically, he reached out – it never even occurred to him to disobey Gen’s order as she pressed his hand against a panel set into the wall beside the door.

Lights flashed from muted green to blue, and the doors slid open.

A glow emanated from inside the room – purple-white and both soft yet bright, wavering like the lights that spun in a model planetarium – and Prompto stared, open mouthed and wide eyed as he realised –

“The crystal,” he whispered.

“Yes,” Gentiana said. “Quickly, before your absence is noted by your watchers – step into the room.”

Prompto looked over at her. “…Why?”

Her gaze was unwavering, unblinking. “Because the Scourge has made itself known in this place,” she said. “And as oracle, it is your duty to aid the King of Kings – and purge the darkness in his place when he cannot.”

As one, they both turned to look at the crystal, and Gen placed a hand on the small of his back, nudging him with gentle pressure into the room. “Go,” she said softly. “There are things you yet need to learn – things your mother never got the chance to teach you; things that are beyond the sphere of my knowledge to grant you.”

Helplessly, he blinked at her. “…But…you’re a _goddess_ ,” he protested quietly.

“And you are an oracle.” She smiled. “You, more than anyone, should know what awaits you within this room.” With a frown, she glanced back down the hall. “Hurry, Prompto – there are people looking for you.”

He tensed. “Niflheim?” He asked warily. “Or Lucis?”

“They wear the colours of Lucis,” she said, with eyes narrowed. “But the intent in some of their thoughts…” she trailed off, but Prompto got the picture.

He took in a deep breath, sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Okay. I got this.” And then, with shaking hands, he made his way into the room.

The further he walked in, the closer the crystal became – the more the rest of the world melted away to nothing. Even Gentiana, whose presence was usually larger than life and completely unignorable – she was _nothing_ compared to the weight, the pressure coming from the glowing hunk of stone.

 _Oracle_. The voice wasn’t a voice so much as it was a _hum_ – in the sense that a hum was all his mind could process of the roar the creature in the crystal produced; completely beyond the scale of his human, mortal mind to comprehend.

Or, no – not a creature, he realised, as the presence in his mind chuckled. _Bahamut_.

He fell to his knees, bowing his head. The Draconian was second only to Eos Herself, after all.

 _You come to me now,_ Bahamut said. _Yet you seek not to form a covenant_.

“No,” Prompto whispered.

_Then why, child?_

He sent a glance back at Gen – her back was turned to him, and even through the thick, loose cloth of her robe he could see she was tense; keeping guard from just within the doorway.

“Gen – Shiva,” he corrected. “She says there’s something you need to teach me about how to purge the Scourge.”

A sensation like wire being scraped through him. _Compared to those that came before you, you truly do not know much, do you?_

Prompto bit his tongue and gritted his teeth but did not protest. “I have not had the opportunity to learn as much as other oracles may have,” he said carefully.

Once more, Bahamut laughed. _That, I can see plainly._ He fell silent – considering. _Very well,_ he said. _Open yourself to me, and I will show you what you need to know_.

And then he did.

Prompto jerked back to himself – what could have been minutes, hours, or even _days_ later. He swallowed, and looked at the crystal. “You’re not serious, right?” He asked.

There was no answer.

“Gen,” he called out, and turned. “Did you _know_ about this – ”

He fell silent.

Gentiana wasn’t there.

“Gen?” He called out warily, and stepped slowly outside of the chamber that held the crystal within it. Behind him, the doors closed automatically.

She wasn’t in the hall, either – not down either direction, and he _looked_.

“Lord Prompto!” A voice called out as he hovered, indecisive, in the hall, trying to figure out his next move – just where Gentiana could possibly be. After all, she was the one that had snuck him into the palace through the citadel – there was no way he would be able to get out himself without being noticed.

He turned in the direction the voice had come from, and saw one of the Kingsglaive standing there – a man, with short reddish hair.

He relaxed – if it was a glaive, and not General Glauca or one of the magitek units, he should be fine. He offered a smile to the man as he stepped closer – and remembered, too late, what Gentiana had said of those searching for him.

“Commander, we’ve found him,” the glaive said, one hand pressed to his ear as arms wrapped around him from behind, and something pricked into his neck. “So, where do you want him?”

“Sorry, Lord Prompto.” The voice came from behind him, just at his ear – the man holding him as the drug swam through his veins and introduced him to oblivion. “Nothing personal – just doing our jobs. You understand, right? Just doing our duty.”


End file.
